Antidepressants and Recovery: 11 Lessons from Lived Experience with Depression

3. You’re Allowed to Hate Taking Medication—And Still Take It Anyway

Medication isn’t a magic cure. Michael is transparent about its downsides. But his framework for accepting it is profoundly insightful.

Michael explained:

You need to learn to love the thing that you hate least. So I hate my depression more than anything. I hate my medication too, but I hate it less than I hate the illness. So it’s like, do I like being on meds? No. Do I wish I was off meds? Absolutely. But I’d rather be on the meds where I am right now than be back to where I was.

This honest, nuanced perspective removes guilt from the equation.

4. You Might Have to Try More Than One Medication (Or Round)

Michael describes how he cycled through different medications—Prozac, Zoloft, and eventually a long-term combination of Lexapro and Wellbutrin.

Michael shared:

I started on Prozac. It helped me, didn’t cure me, it helped me and then eventually I went off Prozac because I didn’t like the side effects and it came back. And then I went on Zoloft and again, it made me better. And I got tired of the side effects, so I went off it again thinking, ‘Okay, well, maybe I don’t need it anymore.’

His story normalizes the trial-and-error reality of mental health treatment.

5. Relapse Is Real—But It’s Also Preventable

Michael’s most dangerous relapse happened after he convinced himself he could live without medication. He shares a vivid and deeply personal memory of where that decision led him:

Michael recalled:

I kept going off it, and then eventually the last time I went off it… I really was in a terrible position where—I talk about this—November 24th, 2008, Marriott Hotel, Montreal, Room 521, 4am in the morning. I was there sitting on the edge of my bed, I was working in Montreal at a sporting event and I thought, “Wow. I know why people take their lives.” I was not really a danger to myself because I’d been through it before. But that’s how far I had let myself slip, Terry. I had gone so far, so much in denial. And my wife had said, “You have to go back on medication.” I said, “No, I don’t, I can do it without medication.”

He goes on to describe how his refusal to take antidepressants led to dependency on benzodiazepines and a growing sense of hopelessness.

I started taking other medications like benzodiazepines, you know, Ativan or Valium. But then you get addicted and you realize you gotta use more and more and more. That was 12 years ago now, and I have not been off medication. I’ve been on 20 milligrams of what you would call Lexapro, and 300 milligrams, 150 twice a day of Wellbutrin. So, I have learned my lesson.

For Michael, that moment became the turning point—one that led to long-term consistency with medication and a deeper understanding of what his brain needs to stay stable.

6. Fear of the Slide Is Sometimes Worse Than the Slide Itself

Even when things are going well, anxiety about relapse can taint good days. Michael has learned to stop that fear spiral.

Michael reflected:

We have the ability to take a good day and make it into a bad day and we do that by fearing the return of the bad day… And similarly, I can take a bad day and make it worse… ‘Oh my God, am I going back into the hole? Is my medication no longer working for me?’

Awareness of this pattern helps him avoid turning worry into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

7. Recognize the Early Warning Signs of a Downward Spiral

Michael knows himself well enough now to detect when he’s slipping.

Michael said:

The first warning sign is that my wife asks me if I’m okay… For me, the biggest is I stop talking… When I realize that I’ve lost confidence in myself—that’s another sign about the slide. And when I retreat—when I search for ways to get away from people.

Catching these signals early can mean the difference between a bad day and a dangerous one.

8. When the Slide Starts, Take Action—But Stay Calm

So what does Michael do when the early signs appear?

Michael explained:

I remind myself of how many times I have been in this position… It’s kind of like you’re on an airplane and there’s turbulence. Because there’s turbulence doesn’t mean that you’re gonna crash… I’ve had bumps before in bad days. It doesn’t mean that I’m relapsing.

Instead of panicking, he grounds himself in experience and trust in his treatment.

9. You Don’t Have to Be “Cured” to Be Doing Well

There’s a common misconception that if treatment is working, there won’t be bad days. But Michael offers a more compassionate measure of progress.

Terry observed:

Just because you’re doing the right things doesn’t mean every day is going to be good… but that doesn’t mean they’re all going to be bad.

Michael literally tracks his mental health by marking bad days on his arm each month—and celebrating the good ones in between.

10. You Don’t Have to Sell Hope—Just Live Honestly

Michael doesn’t sugarcoat the reality of living with depression. But he also doesn’t hide it.

Terry put it this way:

What Michael was just doing is destigmatizing. He was talking. He was talking to us all. About his experience. Without shame, without embarrassment… just like if we were to talk about, you know, my morning routine or any other part of his life.

That kind of openness is what real hope looks like.

11. Talking About It Reduces Shame—and Saves Lives

In his role as a public figure, Michael has used his platform to model what it means to speak out. The results speak for themselves.

Michael reflected:

Anybody who denies any form of treatment that has been approved has never experienced depression the way you and I have experienced it. Because if you’ve been down there, you tend to go: “Anything. Anything. Please just help me get out of this spot because I’m not living right now. I’ll do anything to get better.”

That urgency, that honesty—it changes lives. And every time he shares, he chips away at the silence that keeps others suffering.

Final Thoughts

This episode is not a prescription. It’s not a one-size-fits-all solution. It’s a raw, compassionate reflection from someone who’s been there—who is still there, managing depression day by day with clarity, vulnerability, and courage.

Whether you’re considering medication, supporting a loved one, or just trying to make it through another day—Michael Landsberg’s voice is a reminder:
You’re not weak. You’re not alone. And you are so much more than your illness.